Merzouga, sand door to the rock desert

Our journey starts with this surrealistic view. From the rock & dust desert we see a sand dune on the horizon. Despite we were expecting it, we were surprised!

Then, instead of the bus, we get camels. Still it is a funny way of getting accross the desert, then why our guides prefer wandering on their own foot? We should ask them afterward!

Maybe we will return by car?

May it be funny? We hear people laughing when the car gets down a dune… We will prospect this solution for the next day when getting to the camp!

But until then, we are on camels.

As a caravan, each camel is joined to the one in front of it, so we are not on a free ride. The perk is we can chill out and enjoy the sandy immensity while speaking with our guides.

Still not all nomads are leading the caravan: some of them are walking at a distance from us, probably getting a decent panorama too, but with a desertic silence…

I assume living in the desert includes some lonely times…

Our youngest guide is particularly talkative and he speaks Arabic, English and Spanish. He likes taking pictures, and despite he is used to this promenade, he still takes a selfie in front of the sunset. I do not know why, this pictures moves me… In a way I think I identified myself to him, wondering what could be my life in his place…

The sunset was particularly romantic and calm. We were all sitting on our dedicated camel and I wish we could have got down on our foot at this time, to enjoy and share the energy we felt.

Without the sun light, the sand dunes are red no more, and the desert seems cold. Actually, it is getting cold! Let’s go to the camp!

When we arrive, the night is already dark and we can only get to the tents to enjoy our rest. I took the following 2 pictures in the morning, with a disposable camera, before climbing on the 4×4 car, where my friends were waiting for me.

One night in a beautiful new place is never enough, but at this time we really wanted to stay for a week with the nomads. We spent the night until quite late, speaking with them alone, long after the fire they had started had gone out. They told us French people do not come to Merzouga anymore, because they feel unsafe there. I never felt unsafe with them.

And since then, I often rethink of those moments and I realise they figure among the ones that really make sense to me, those I wish to live again, and again, and again.